


Routines

by olyvjus



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Jealousy, M/M, Muggle Department Stores, Roommates, flatmates, i need criticism, lots of eggs, lots of routines, this is my first ever fanfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-20 18:11:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18997855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olyvjus/pseuds/olyvjus
Summary: Harry is stuck in a routine until  he runs into Pansy at a muggle department store and gets an unexpected change in routine.Oh yeah, and he's hopelessly in love.





	Routines

Harry leaned against the display glass to a muggle department store, needing to catch his breath from Ron’s unusually indecisive manner. He and Hermione were stocking up on coffee cups, and, due to Hermione’s nostalgic trances, were taking a dreadfully long time. Harry had only decided to come because he could tell they needed company. Hermione had been side-eyeing Ron since she got back from her eighth year and, though he didn’t know exactly what it was, he knew that it would mean change. Which worried him. After the war, he had been in a comfortable routine of waking up late, frying up some eggs, feeding his cat, fixing up Grimmauld Place a little bit, going over to Ron and Hermione’s house for lunch (though, Hermione hadn’t been there very much, what with returning to Hogwarts), and going for walks through Diagon Alley. It had only been a year, but he felt as if he could carry on forever, being entirely uncertain about Auror training. 

He often felt rather lonely, especially in the company of his friends; what with Hermione aloof and Ron desperate to fix it. They needed new friends to hang out with; they needed.... change.

It was then, at the very thought of it, that he rushed in to his friends. Hermione was holding a small, pale yellow cup with a menacing glare while Ron gestured emphatically with one hand to the bold, bulbous, red cup brandished in the other. They seemed to be in a heated debate. Before Harry could catch their attention, though, a clerk did. She had shiny dark hair, curled stylishly at her porcelain chin. For a few seconds, Harry watched her talk to Hermione and Ron, both smiling. When Hermione caught sight of Harry, the clerk twisted her neck, a glint of silver earrings flashed, her familiar complexion faced Harry, and her name badge was made visible. 

Pansy

She waved him over with a polite smile and, once he had approached (with much apprehension), discussed the different coffee cups with his friends. In the end, Ron was convinced to get Hermione’s choice and Hermione was beaming at Pansy. 

“We should get in touch, Pansy,” Hermione said as they shook hands, having made the purchase.

“I’d love to, really. I can’t believe we haven’t talked since school got out. Say, will you be at Luna’s beach party this weekend?” she replied. 

Harry and Ron shared a look; Hermione hadn’t told them about being friends with Pansy in her eighth year. Hermione side-eyed them and gave Pansy the affirmative. Then they left.

\---

“So, Hermione... Pansy?” Harry asked softly, once Ron had fallen into a sugar coma on the couch.

Hermione took a small bite of the butter pecan ice cream from the tub in front of her, carefully training her eyes upon it. “We became friends. I didn’t want to tell Ron, of course; he’s so close-minded about those things!” she whispered back to him, eyes suddenly on his. “And anyway,” she shoved a larger bite of ice cream into her mouth, “she’s a good friend. We really have a lot in common.” She paused. “By the way, you are coming with me to Luna’s party, right?”

Harry glanced up at her through his fringe, “Why?” 

She fiddled with her spoon. “Well, I think it would be good for you to meet new people, to incorporate some new people into your life.” Then sighed. “It’s just, you come over every single day and you always look so lonely...”

He reached out and touched her forearm, gently. “I’ll go, of course.”

\---

The moon shone bright and he was glad he was at the party, clad in an emerald jumper and black slacks. Seeking to thank the hostess, he caught a glimpse of pale blonde hair and made his way over to her. Calmly, he breathed in the sea soaked air, resting his eyes as he walked. When he opened them, he was facing a mostly startled group of ex-slytherins: Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, and Draco Malfoy. Pansy waved him over with a smile, happy to include him and relief washed through him in an otherwise awkward situation. He nodded curtly to Draco and Blaise, whose eyes widened all the more. Pansy resumed the conversation, which was, apparently, about the virtues of muggle film, and so did the other two, reluctantly as they might have.

\---  
“...Thus Gene Wilder is my favorite actor,” concluded Draco, settling on his heels in finality. He had gone from wide-eyed reluctance to energetically opinionated after a few glances for reassurance from Pansy and peeks at Harry, smiling considerately at him.  
He surprised Harry with his knowledge of muggle culture; obviously, he had changed in the year since Hogwarts. Even his hair had changed, in fact; no longer was it gelled back religiously, but it hung to frame his cheeks. With a jolt, Harry realized he had been staring at it. He looked to Pansy, who gave him the Hermione-esque side-eye. Then she flicked her eyes over to Draco.

“Have you had any luck in your flatmate search, Draco?” she asked him, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled over them.

He looked up, briefly glancing at me. “No,” he said, looking back at his shoes. “Potter, were you saying something earlier about gardens? What kind of thing do you grow?”

Confused by the change in topic, Harry stumbled to tell him that he did, in fact have a garden. That he grew eggplants, onions, and tomatoes.

“That’s rather impressive,” Draco said, with a slight smile. Obviously, he was avoiding the subject.

“Hey, if you need a place to stay, I live in the old Black Family’s house. I know you’re connected by blood to it, since you’re on the family tree, so it would make sense if you lived there.... with me. There’s plenty of room and,” Harry scratches his neck sheepishly, “it gets pretty lonely in there. You’re welcome to stay there. I hope we can get over our former, uh, grievances.”

Draco looked up from his shoes, wide-eyed, and tucked his hair behind his ears. His lips fell open. “What? I mean, really? Do you actually fucking trust me after so short a time together? After everything? You’re so stupid, Potter,” his eyebrows furrowed, and when he observed Harry looking for all the world like he was genuine, he scoffed.

“Well, I hope to put all that behind us-” he started. “But you’re right. I can’t trust you until we spend more time together.”

“How much time, exactly?”

\---  
“Breakfast is ready!” Harry shouted up the stairs to Draco’s room, leaning against the wall beside them. He picked at his nails as he waited for his housemate to pad down the stairs like he did every morning. It had become a routine for Harry over the three months they had been living together:

Waking up, making his bed, going to the kitchen, making eggs, setting the table, yelling for Draco, waiting for Draco, eating with Draco, watching Draco do the dishes, longing to touch Draco, fixing up the house with Draco, going on walks with Draco, watching movies with Draco, hanging out with friends and Draco.

Over and over and over. Draco and Draco and Draco.

Harry didn’t know when it had happened, but that became all he wanted: Draco and Draco and Draco. Somewhere along the line of resting his head in Draco’s lap, fingers stroking through his hair, butterflies fluttering in his stomach, and exchanging numerous other small touches throughout the day.

He wanted Draco to be his fully, but he knew what would happen if he tried to make that happen: he would leave. Draco would either think he was joking or take it too seriously, he always did that. Harry had, sadly, seen him go through a few guys, better looking than him.

Harry, nowadays, had shaggy hair and scruffy stubble and moccasins. They were all... tamer and fitter. Draco was all sharp lines, ivory skin, and steel grey eyes. It was so intimidating to be around him, it hurt Harry. 

He heard a patter of footsteps and looked up from his rough nails to see Draco... and someone else. His stomach dropped. Draco was smiling at him, it must have been a good fuck. Maybe he’d keep this one around. Harry watched as Draco gracefully jogged down the stairs, “Morning, ‘Arry. How are you?” He was still smiling, and his voice was groggy from sleep. 

Harry swallowed. “F-fine.” He reached out a hand to introduce himself to the fucker next to Draco. “Hi, I’m Harry.” 

The guest glared up at him pointedly and said, “Yes, I know.” His glare flickered to Draco, who only looked up sheepishly from his glass of orange juice. “I’d best be off.” And he left without another word from anyone.

“Everything okay?” Harry asked cautiously.

“Yes. Yes, of course. Terry just came over this morning to, ah...” Draco paused, staring at the ceiling.  
“Do you think I have a problem with you fucking with men or something?” 

“Well... It seems like you’re always grumpy afterwards.”

Harry jolted. He hadn’t meant to show his jealousy to Draco.

"No... I have no problem with it." 

Draco darted his eyes at Harry, pushing his eggs around a bit. "If you're sure..."

Harry needed to get over Draco. But how?

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I'll have the next chapter up probably tomorrow. This is my first fanfiction ever, so if you could give me some constructive criticism in the comments, I would really appreciate it, like, a lot! ♥♥♥


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